


all that's mine

by belovedmuerto



Series: in a cabin in the woods [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Domesticity, Fluff, M/M, Natasha and Steve are BFFS, POV Steve Rogers, a moment of super minor angst, bucky is also an artist, but then it's gone again, everyone is happy and nothing hurts, in a cabin in the woods universe, natasha and Bucky are bffs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-23
Updated: 2017-01-23
Packaged: 2018-09-19 08:09:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9429002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/belovedmuerto/pseuds/belovedmuerto
Summary: “Ugh,” Steve Rogers says, in lieu of a more traditional greeting, like ‘hello’.“Wow Rogers, really feeling the love here,” Natasha replies. He can hear the laughter in her voice even through the phone.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta'd, as per usual. I hope you enjoy it. Leave some love, friends.

“Ugh,” Steve Rogers says, in lieu of a more traditional greeting, like ‘hello’.

“Wow Rogers, really feeling the love here,” Natasha replies. He can hear the laughter in her voice even through the phone.

“Ugh,” Steve repeats, but he’s smiling now, too. “Natashenka, you only actually call me when you want me on a mission. Hence: UGH.” (He’s taken to calling her by the same Russian diminutives as Bucky does, somehow.) (She sometimes refers to Bucky as Sasha, and Steve as Styopa, which makes him feel very special indeed.)

Natasha chuckles. “Fair.”

“I don’t wanna,” Steve adds. He’s definitely whining, but he doesn’t care. He’s also definitely doing it on purpose. “I’m literally under a pile of dogs and cats right now, and I’m really comfortable and I don’t wanna.”

Natasha laughs again. “Are you really?” 

“Yeah. It’s awesome. I have four kittens on my chest.” He pauses for a moment. “That is not a euphemism.”

“What would that even be a euphemism for?”

“Dunno, probably something really kinky.”

Natasha laughs again, a real laugh, and Steve feels proud down to his bones that she lets herself laugh for real with him. “Seriously though, I do need you.”

“Ugh,” Steve says, yet again. “What about… everyone else?”

“Clint’s laid up with a broken leg--”

“What happened this time?” Steve interrupts. He can only imagine, when it comes to Clint.

“He fell off a building. Don’t ask.”

“I won’t.” Steve cringes a little at his phone. Calling Clint ‘accident prone’ is probably the biggest understatement across both of the centuries Steve has lived in.

“I asked Tony, but Pepper put her foot down when she found out who we’re dealing with this time. Thor’s off-world, Vision and Wanda are god only knows where with Strange and I’m not even trying to get in touch with them.”

“Fair,” Steve concedes. Then, “What about Sam?”

“He took the weekend off.”

“So call him in! He’s way closer than I am!”

“Yeah, but he said, and I quote, ‘If I don’t get to go home and see my mama this weekend I will tell her who’s to blame and trust me, you do not want that.’”

Steve has met Sam’s mother. “Okay, that’s true. Ugh. Uuuuuuuuugh. Do you hear me Natasha? UGH.”

Natasha laughs again. “Semi-retirement’s made you soft, Rogers. Suit up. Time to ride or die.”

Steve sighs deeply and starts gently nudging the kittens off his chest. “Okay, so tell me. On a scale of ‘milk run’ to ‘alien army from outer space with a psychotic god at their head’ what are we looking at?”

“AIM,” Natasha replies promptly.

“Are you shitting me?” Steve pauses in dislodging the older cats to glare at his phone.

Natasha laughs again. She’s really amused by this whole situation, it seems. “No, yeah. Seriously. AIM.”

“Fuck I hate those guys,” Steve says. “But I guess I can see why Pepper put her foot down.”

“Yeah, although Tony was awful gleeful about it; we should definitely make him regret that at some later date.”

“Maybe I’ll invite them for Thanksgiving,” Steve muses. 

“Tony in western Maryland? Please invite me too, I wanna see that.” 

Steve laughs. “Yeah, lemme run it by Buck first. He’ll probably eighty-six the idea real quick.”

“Still, it will be nice to dream about.”

Finally divested of their menagerie, Steve reluctantly stands up next to the bed. “So how long do I have? I gotta make a couple phone calls; Bucky’s out of town til Monday morning.”

“Aww,” Natasha replies. “Steve were you moping around in bed with your kittens?”

“Absolutely. One hundred and ten percent yes.”

“It’s not fun teasing you if you admit it, Rogers.”

“You’ll live.”

“Anyway, like an hour til I land.”

“Okay, lemme go. I’ll see you then.”

“Thanks Steve.”

“Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuugh.” And Steve disconnects the call. He walks through the house, the dogs and most of the cats on his heels. He lets the dogs out, and fills the kittens’ water dishes. Annabelle and Buster both get some regular food, and then Steve goes about filling all the various timed-feed devices for the cats. They’ll probably be okay on their own for a few days. He should probably confine the kittens to the spare room though. 

While he’s contemplating that issue, Steve calls Bucky. He’s probably in a class and won’t answer, but Steve has to let him know what’s up.

“Hey Buck,” he starts when it goes to voicemail. “So I just got called in a for a few days by Nat. Some AIM cell or some such bullshit. Anyway, I’m going to call Sandy and ask her to come get the dogs and check in on the kittens over the next few days. I should be home before you, but I wanted to make sure you know what’s up in case you call and I don’t answer. I’ll check in on the normal schedule if I can manage it. Love you, bye.”

He looks at his phone for a minute after hanging up, and shakes his head to clear it. He doesn’t like leaving without being able to properly say goodbye to Bucky. It feels like tempting fate. Not that he thinks something might happen, because AIM is usually more ridiculous than dangerous.

But still. Something might happen.

He absently knocks on the door frame, and then dials their vet. She answers on the third ring.

“Hey Sandy, how’s it going?”

“Good, Steve. You?”

“Fine, fine. Listen,” and he stops, because ugh, he really doesn’t want to do this. He wants to lay around in bed with their menagerie for a few more days, bake ridiculous amounts of things he doesn’t need to eat, and welcome Bucky home with spectacular ‘I missed you’ sex. 

He might manage the last one, at least.

“What’s up?”

“Was wondering if you could come grab the dogs later today for a couple days? Check in on the kittens for me til Sunday-ish?”

“Sure,” she replies. “No problem. Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Steve waves that off even though she can’t see him. “Bucky’s at that woodworking conference til Monday morning and I just got called in for a couple days, that’s all.”

“Ah, gotcha. Do I need to batten down the hatches?”

“Nah, it’s minor. Promise. You sure you’re okay to pick up the beasts?”

“Yeah, no problem whatsoever, it’s not like I’m not charging you for it.”

Steve laughs. “That works. I’ll be gone when you come by. You still have the key, right?”

“Yep. I can stop by around five, they’ll be okay ‘til then?”

“Yeah, I’ll feed them and put them out so they should be fine. I’ll round up the cats and put them all in the spare room, they should be okay in there for a couple days.”

“They’ll be super pissed off when you get home,” Sandy observes.

“They’ll forgive me eventually. I hope.”

Sandy laughs, and they wind up their conversation and hang up. 

Steve lets the dogs back in the house and feeds them, before he goes to take a shower. He’s waiting for Natasha on the front porch an hour later when she appears, walking up the drive. He hadn’t even heard her touch down, though no doubt she’s just over the ridge in the tiny clearing on the hill. It hadn’t been cleared with that intention, but it works well when they have to send someone for Steve, when he gets called in.

If he and Bucky are going anywhere together, they usually just take the truck. It takes longer, but it’s more normal. Bucky especially likes normal these days. 

\----

It’s not a particularly difficult op, but it’s a long and exhausting and honestly tedious few days in the field. Natasha is good partner, and they do well together, but Steve longs for home, for his bed and the menagerie and most of all he longs for Bucky. 

Bucky’s arms around him, Bucky’s body pressed against his, Bucky’s voice in his ear, Bucky’s laugh, Bucky’s hair. Bucky.

“You got it bad, Rogers,” Natasha observes. 

Steve glances over at her, in the pilot seat, and she glances back. He shrugs. 

“I miss him,” he says. “I miss the dogs and our house.” He’s not ashamed. 

He’s more or less retired from being Captain America (Sam takes up the shield far more often than he does these days), and Bucky is entirely retired. They have a home. Bucky builds furniture and things of wood. Steve paints and is learning to cook. He’s almost got the bread his mother used to make perfected, and he’s just about worked out apple pie to where they both like it. In the summer, they grow veggies and flowers. They have a good life, and he likes it. They both still have their issues. Their issues have issues, but they’re working on that. They both still have bad days, bad nights, but as time marches forward, those days seem to be getting a little fewer, a little further between. Things are good, overall.

Nat doesn’t comment on the wistful look that’s no doubt on his face. “How’s the house coming along?” 

“It’s good,” Steve replies, letting the subject of how much he loves his significant other and how obvious he is about it drop. “I think we’re just about finished, except for some painting here and there. Buck just finished building a bed for the guest room. Hey, you should come stay sometime.”

Natasha smiles at him, but he’s not sure she believes his offer is real. It is, though. Natasha is one of his closest friends, and he would like it if she came to stay with them for a visit. She and Bucky are still close as well, even though they rarely see each other. They talk on the phone and text each other far more than either one thinks Steve knows about. He doesn’t bring it up to either of them; he knows they have history, but it makes him happy that they’re friends, that they can talk to each other about things that maybe neither of them can talk to him about.

Steve could cook, and she and Bucky could speak Russian to each other and Steve can pretend he still doesn’t understand most of it (even though he does). They can hike in the woods. Or just do nothing all weekend. It would be nice.

“Sure, Rogers. I’d like that,” she replies.

“I’ll talk to Buck when he gets home and let you know, okay? Start thinking about when’s good for you.”

“Have you checked in with him yet?”

“Yeah, last check in was this morning. He had to go to class though, so we didn’t talk long.” Steve makes a face.

Natasha chuckles. “You are the mopiest.”

“Shaddup.” Steve grabs his phone and thumbs it open, and taps open the text app. Their last exchange had mostly been a lot of heart emojis, because Bucky has wholeheartedly embraced technology and its slang, and he’d dragged Steve along with him (Steve secretly loves it). ‘Almost home’ he sends to Bucky. He doesn’t expect an answer, and he doesn’t get one before he stops staring at the screen and locks his phone again.

Bucky’s at a weeklong woodworking workshop, learning new techniques and mingling with other artisans and woodworkers, and he’d been looking forward to it for months. Steve is so happy for him, that he has this thing that he loves to do so much, and that he makes money doing it (not that they need the money, but it feels nice, earning something. He knows a little of how Bucky must feel, making something with his own two hands that someone else will pay him for. He gets that feeling as well sometimes, when someone buys one of his paintings.)

Natasha drops him off in the little clearing on the hill, and Steve waves before he starts his walk up the drive. Well, it’s more of a trudge. Natasha takes off again and disappears quickly into the clouds. Steve heaves a great big sigh and keeps trudging up the driveway. He pulls his phone out again and calls Bucky. It goes straight to voicemail. Steve pulls the phone away from his face to check Bucky isn’t calling him at the same time he’s calling Bucky, but it’s just him on the line. Damn.

“Hey pal,” he starts, sighing again. It’s one of their code words: all clear, I’m safe and uninjured. “I’m home. Walking up the driveway now. I’m exhausted, I can’t wait to take a shower and just collapse into bed. I miss you. I love you. See you soon, Buck.”

He’s just about to the front door when his phone chimes with an incoming text.

‘Sorry missed ur call punk. Check the answering machine when you get in the house ok?’ There’s another heart emoji after it.

Steve pauses to return the heart and then type out ‘Will do. Get my vm?’

He’s unlocking the door when his phone chimes again. ‘Got it. Miss ur dumb punk face too. Home tomorrow morning early.’

Steve misses the presence of the dogs as soon as he sets foot inside the house. He heads for the kitchen and the answering machine first thing, even though he can hear the cats meowing from the guest room.

There’s only one message, and Steve leans against the counter and hits play. 

“Stevie, here’s what I need you to do,” Bucky starts. His voice fills Steve with warmth, with longing. It almost hurts, but Steve comforts himself with the fact that Bucky will be home tomorrow.

“You’re gonna call Sandy when I’m done talking, and you _are_ going to go get the dogs. I know you don’t wanna, but you’ll feel better if you’ve got them with you. After you get off the phone with Sandy, you’re gonna take a quick shower, as hot as you can stand it, and then you’re gonna go get the dogs. This is non-negotiable, Stevie. After you get the dogs, stop somewhere in town and get food. Get lots of food, you know you need calories. Get, like, five burgers. Get a couple for the dogs, they could probably use a treat right now too. 

“When you get home, eat. After you’ve done all that, you text me and let me know you’ve done it all, and then you can go to bed. Okay? Love you, punk. Get to steppin’.”

Steve groans, but he’s smiling, too. Trust Bucky to not trust him enough to take care of himself after a mission, and to give him detailed instructions on how to survive on his own.

It helps, actually. He needed that.

He calls Sandy.

“Hey Steve, how did it go?”

“It was dumb. If anyone ever says anything to you about a group called AIM, tell them that they’re all dumb. Super dumb.” He goes to let the kittens and Annabelle and Buster out of the guest room. The kittens make a break for it as soon as the door opens, but get distracted halfway down the hall and come back, climbing all over Steve’s feet. He grins down at them, stupidly happy to be home, even if Bucky’s not here to welcome him.

“That bad, huh?”

“I mean, not really. They’re just all really dumb and I really shouldn’t have needed to be there. Anyway I’m home, can I come get the dogs?”

“Yeah, we’re all home. Daisy’s been moping all weekend, although I’m sure she’ll pretend she’s fine as soon as you get them.”

“Probably, she’s spoiled rotten.”

“They all are, Steve. You two spoil your pets ridiculously.”

“That is all Bucky.”

“Liar.”

Steve laughs. “I’m going to take a quick shower and then I’ll be by, sound good?”

“Yep, we’ll be here.”

“Thanks, Sandy. See you soon.”

He strips out of his uniform as he walks through the house towards their room and the shower. He leaves every last bit of it where it falls. His shoes get dumped next to the bed, and thus his pants and underwear, because the boots are too hard to get off without sitting down. He wishes Bucky was there to help. Not even for any sort of sexual reason, just for the comfort of letting Bucky take care of him.

Steve showers, making the water as hot as he can stand it, quick and perfunctory. There’s not much point in lingering, without Bucky there to possibly join him, or at least yell at him for using all the hot water. After, he checks his ribs and deems them not quite bad enough to need wrapping. He thinks he cracked one of them, but it’s already healed to where it’s just sore and bruised. The bruise might still be there when Bucky gets home, but it’s not so bad. He’s certainly had worse.

His wrist is still aching, where he’d wrenched it, so he wraps it up to keep it a little bit immobilized, and he gets dressed in sweats and one of Bucky’s t-shirts, old and worn thin. He puts on a hoodie over it, and then a jacket because he’s suddenly cold. Sneakers, a baseball cap and aviators that he doesn’t need finish his outfit, and he shuffles out of the house to the truck.

It’s a relatively short drive to Sandy’s to pick up the dogs. They make small talk for a few minutes before she takes pity on him and sends him off, the dogs at his heels. Everyone clambers into the truck (Daisy only needs a little help to get up; Steve puts her front paws on the footboard and she’s good with Sweet Pea yipping at her from inside to guide her the rest of the way. Hooch gives him a baleful look before loping his way in and settling down with a sigh).

As instructed, he stops at McDonalds on his way home, and orders a somewhat ridiculous amount of food, burgers and fries and a large milkshake and chicken nuggets and basically at least one of everything on the menu because he’s suddenly starving. He even remembers to order a few plain burgers for the dogs.

He ends up sitting on the floor in the kitchen with the dogs, scarfing down his food with the dogs around him eating their burgers. There’s at least one kitten on his shoulders, and another clinging to his back. The other two are watching from under the table, still a little fearful of the dogs even though the dogs are completely ignoring them. Annabelle and Buster are watching everything with faintly smug catlike looks of disdain.

When he’s finally not-hungry anymore, Steve flops onto his back (gently, so as not to squish the kitten). The kitten yells at him for dislodging him (her? He’s not sure which one it is right now) and then settles on his chest, purring like a tiny freight train. All its siblings are soon there as well. Steve loves it; he wishes he could’ve spent the whole weekend like this, instead of fighting off AIM goons.

He pulls his phone out of the pocket it’s in and takes a photo of himself, splayed out on the kitchen floor probably with crumbs all over his face, covered in cats, with bits of the dogs visible at the edges of the picture, and sends it to Bucky. ‘I ate and got the dogs can i just sleep here?’ he sends with it.

He’s dozing right there when his phone chimes, and he has to squint at it for a moment before the squiggles resolve themselves into a single word: ‘no’.

Slowly Steve climbs to his feet, catching and hanging onto all the kittens, and he shuffles to the bedroom. The dogs all follow, arranging themselves on their beds with varying sighs of contentment. Steve strips down to his underwear and manages to pull back the covers before collapsing into bed.

He’s asleep in seconds.

\----

He wakes up again when the bed dips behind him, and Steve turns over with a little frown on his face. He feels like he should’ve woken up before this; he shouldn’t have slept through Bucky getting home, or coming in the house, or greeting the dogs, or changing out of his clothes. He shouldn’t have slept through that, but he did. 

Had it been anyone else, he would’ve woken up, still a little too on alert, even though he’s mostly retired and also at home in his own bed, especially so recently returned from a mission. He’d thought he would wake up when Bucky came up the drive, and he could’ve been waiting to welcome him home. Instead he’s dead to the world in bed right up until Bucky climbs in with him.

“Buck,” he mumbles.

Bucky slides in close to him, puts his arms around Steve, and presses a kiss to the back of his neck. “Go back to sleep, Stevie.”

“Was gonna be awake to welcome you home,” Steve protests. “Wanted to say hi.”

“You can say hi tomorrow, punk.”

“Wanna know about your trip.”

“I’ll tell you over breakfast, babes, get some sleep.” Bucky leans over him a minute. “You need the sleep.”

“Was gonna have welcome home sex,” Steve pouts. His eyes are shut, though, and he can hear his words slurring together a little. He really is tired.

Bucky laughs softly and presses a quick kiss to his lips. “We can do that later, too. It’s okay Stevie, we both need sleep. Go to sleep.”

“‘K. Love you.”

If Bucky replies, Steve doesn’t hear it, because he’s already out again.

\----

He wakes up slow, warm and aroused. Bucky’s hands are all over him, everywhere all at once. He feels surrounded, wanted. Bucky is kissing across his shoulder, up his neck, murmuring endearments into his skin. Somehow, they’re both already naked, even though Steve knows he was wearing underwear last night, and Bucky had come to bed in sleep pants. How Bucky’d managed to get him undressed without waking him is beyond his comprehension right now, with his thoughts slow and mired in lust.

Steve twists a little, and Bucky is smiling at him, kissing him.

“Oof,” Bucky murmurs, against his lips. “Did you forget to brush your teeth before you passed out last night, Stevie?”

Steve smiles. “Possibly.”

“Gross.”

Steve opens his mouth and breathes on Bucky, who pulls back a little, making a face and laughing. He’s still laughing when Steve kisses him again, and Steve sinks his hands into Bucky’s hair, holding on tight. He lets Bucky draw him closer, lets himself be lost in the sensation. It’s soft and slow and tender, like the things Bucky is still murmuring against his skin, the way he touches Steve with sureness and certainty and aching, aching gentleness, reminding Steve with every caress that he is someone to be cherished, that he is loved and that Bucky needs him the same way he needs Bucky, always and with such depth of emotion.

Steve comes on a sigh, Bucky’s name on his lips. For a moment, he just lays there, breathing, holding onto Bucky, who is pressing soft kisses to his chest. For a moment, he just breathes, and then he moves, flipping them over so Bucky’s the one on his back. Bucky just grins up at him.

“Gonna help a fella out?” he murmurs.

Steve smiles at him, traces his fingers over Bucky’s face, down his cheek to his neck, hoping it does something to convey his love. “I missed you, Buck. So much.”

Bucky’s expression goes soft. “I missed you too, Stevie. It was too long.”

“Too long,” Steve agrees, as he trails kisses down Bucky’s chest, over the flat plane of his stomach and lower, takes him in his mouth, moaning a bit at the taste of him. Sometime later, minutes or hours or possibly days, Bucky comes down his throat with a moan, fingers tight in Steve’s hair, back arched off the bed. Steve gentles him through it, pulling off with a low pop and resting his forehead against Bucky’s thigh. 

Bucky takes deep breaths, patting at Steve, whatever bits of him he can reach, and they’re both quiet for a few minutes, settling into each other, reveling in being together, both of them just so happy to be home and with the other.

“Breakfast?” Bucky says, after a while.

“Mmm,” Steve agrees, but he doesn’t move. Bucky likewise seems content to just lay in bed, all twined together, both of them a little sweaty, a little bit blissed out.

\----

They get up eventually, pull on underwear and t-shirts, and let the dogs out, fill water bowls and food dishes for everyone, get the kittens sorted out and petted and loved up on like they need.

“How much longer do we have them?” Bucky asks as he stirs pancake batter. He sounds cranky, but Steve knows that he spends at least as much time as Steve does trying to pile the kittens on his chest.

Steve is putting together cut fruit and digging out the bacon to fry up. They’ll probably end up eating nearly a dozen eggs as well. They eat a lot of food.

“A few more weeks before they’re ready to be adopted out, I think. They’re doing well. I’ll call the rescue later on. Do you know where the pickled eggs are?”

“Uh, I think I ate the last one before I left.”

“Damn, okay. Remind me to put eggs and beets on the list then. We should try making pickles this summer, what do you think?”

“I think we need to figure out the right kind of cucumbers to grow for pickling. Also probably get a bigger water bath thinger for it.”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees. He finishes pulling things out of the fridge and gets to work. “I wanna try to do raspberry jam again, that turned out really well last year.”

“We got any left by the way? That goes great on pancakes.”

They move around each other with ease, a dance born of long practice and years spent together, both Before and After. The dogs mostly stay out of the way, and even the cats more or less leave them alone while they put their morning meal together.

They discuss the mission Steve had just returned from, or rather, Steve bitches at length and with great vehemence about how much he despises AIM and all their bullshit. After Steve has gotten his anger and annoyance out of his system, he asks Bucky about his trip, and Bucky spends the rest of breakfast telling Steve all about it, what he’d seen, who he’d met, all the wonderful things he’d learned and all his new ideas for things to make.

Steve and Bucky linger over their breakfast, catching up mostly, but also just talking, and Steve loves every minute of it. He cannot imagine living apart from Bucky. He’s infinitely grateful that he’d come after Bucky finally, when he’d gotten his head out of his ass.

“So I asked Natasha to come visit,” Steve finally remembers to mention, when they’re clearing the table.

“Okay,” Bucky replies.

“Really?”

Bucky looks at him with a confused expression. “Yeah?”

“Oh. Okay, good.”

“Did you think I’d say no?”

Steve shrugs. “Well, I wasn’t sure. We’ve never had visitors, really.”

“We’re not hermits, Steve.”

Steve makes a face. “We kind of are.”

Bucky makes a face right back at him, and it’s a measure of how well they know each other, and how long they’ve known each other, that Steve knows Bucky didn’t take offense, because they can say these things to each other. Things like ‘Hey maybe we’re a bit too up each other’s asses? Maybe we should widen our circle beyond each other?’ 

“Did you think I built a second bed so I could kick you out of ours?”

“No,” Steve says slowly, because now that he thinks about it he sort of was worried about that. Because maybe they can’t say these things to each other. He still worries sometimes, deep down where he won’t admit even to himself, that Bucky will get sick of him, will tell him he needs to go again, and disappear.

Bucky gives him the ‘you’re an idiot Steven Grant’ look, and Steve blushes. But Bucky’s face goes soft after only a moment, and he bumps his hip into Steve’s, gentle. “Stevie, it’s fine. Invite Natasha to stay, make her actually come down. Invite Sam, I know you’ve been missing him, your crush is obvious from space--”

“What?!” Steve protests, entirely too fast. “I don’t-- It is not!”

Bucky ignores that and goes on, “Hell, invite Clint, invite Bruce, invite everyone.” He doesn’t even sound remotely sarcastic, and it gives Steve just a hint of pause. Maybe he’s ready, for other people to be in his life. Other people other than his woodworking buddies online or the vet or his therapist that Steve still doesn’t even know the name of, or the folks in the diner in town where they eat breakfast at least twice a week. Steve thinks maybe, just maybe that would be good. For both of them.

“I was thinking about inviting Tony and Pepper for Thanksgiving,” Steve shoots back, smirking.

“Ugh, if you have to.” Bucky and Tony have a sort of love/hate relationship. Sam always says they should just fuck and get it over with, but Steve thinks that’s at least partially to make him splutter. 

Steve laughs. “He’d hate it.”

“He really would.”

Steve bumps Bucky’s hip with his own. “You thinking about doing anything today?”

Bucky shrugs, not at all put out by the change of topic. “Nah, not much. Might doodle some new things. Go for a walk later?”

“Sounds good. I’m probably going to glom on you all day.” He sounds a little shy when he says it, even to himself, still not great at articulating his needs with his actual voice, but Bucky just smiles at him.

“I’m good with that.”

“Good. Okay. Good.”

\----

That night when he climbs into bed next to Bucky, Steve texts Natasha, because they really don’t call each other except in fairly dire circumstances. Mostly she just calls when she needs him for something, and Steve doesn’t call because he’s really awkward on the telephone.

‘Come visit’, is what he sends her. Short, sweet, to the point. Natasha appreciates those things.

‘Holy shit you learned how to text lol :DDD’ is the reply he gets several minutes later, because Natasha is a fucking asshole who uses too many emoticons.

(Steve is proud that he knows the word emoticon. When he shows Bucky the text he just rolls his eyes at him.)

‘Tell me when you’re coming’, he sends back.

First she sends him a series of suggestive emoticons, at which Steve just rolls his eyes, and Bucky snorts when he sees them over Steve’s shoulder. (Bucky still teases him about the first time Steve had asked what the hell the eggplant emoji meant. Bucky had laughed in his face and then demonstrated and then they’d both been very distracted for a couple hours.)

‘Why?’ she replies after that. ‘Don’t you like surprises?’

“Tell her I hafta take down all the booby traps,” Bucky tells him, and Steve smiles.

‘Buck needs time to disable all the booby traps.’ Bucky has already disabled most of them because: dogs and cats. But still. Not the perimeter defenses and alarms.

‘Psh. Booby traps.’

Bucky takes the phone from his hands and rolls his eyes again. He sends, ‘;D’

‘Barnes give the phone back.’

“Ugh,” Bucky says, but does as she says.

‘So you’ll be here?’ Steve adds.

She doesn’t answer for a while. Finally: ‘Friday a week.’

‘Yay!’

‘Weirdo.’

‘You <3 me.’

‘Steve stop trying so hard.’

Steve laughs, and lets himself be distracted by Bucky’s hands and his lips. The phone ends up under the bed, and he doesn’t find it until the next night.

\----

Steve comes home from his run Friday morning to Natasha sitting on the porch steps, elbows on her knees, her bag next to her.

“I would’ve picked you up from the airport,” he greets her.

Natasha shrugs. “No worries. I didn’t fly anyhow.”

“What’d you do, steal one of Tony’s suits?” But he stops in front of her and she stands, and he wraps her up in a big sweaty hug. When he lets go, she’s smiling at him, and she kisses both of his cheeks in greeting.

“Nah,” she replies. There’s a twinkle in her eye.

“How long’ve you been here?”

She shrugs. “Not long.”

Which could mean anywhere from five minutes to ‘I watched you leave on your run and settled in as soon as you were out of sight’, with Natasha.

“Did you try knocking? Buck’s probably awake already, if not out of bed.”

She shakes her head. “It’s nice out. Quiet. I was enjoying the morning.”

Steve shrugs. “Okay.” He lets himself in the house, and she follows him. 

“Buck,” Steve calls. “I’m back. Natasha’s with me.”

“Hi!” floats out from their bedroom. 

“You can drop your bag,” Steve tells Natasha, heading towards the kitchen. “I’ll get coffee started.”

Natasha follows him into the kitchen and sits at the table while Steve gets the coffee going. He’d meant to set it up the night before, but Bucky had distracted him and he’d forgotten-- well, he’d remembered but he hadn’t wanted to get back out of bed when they were done, sleepy and warm and post-coital, so he’d left it.

The dogs all wander into the kitchen, yawning and stretching.

“Hooch is probably going be your best friend all weekend,” Steve says when the big mastiff goes straight for Natasha. She pats his head and gives him scritches, speaking to him softly in Russian. “He always likes women. Daisy’s the pit bull, she’s blind; Sweet Pea’s her companion so try not to get between them. She’s not mean or anything, but Daisy gets anxious.”

“Okay,” Natasha agrees readily enough.

“You may or may not see the cats, but the kittens will probably hide all weekend, they’re pretty wary of new people still.”

Natasha nods when Steve glances her way.

“I dusted and put clean sheets on the bed in your room. There’s a couple of extra blankets in the chest at the end of the bed if you get cold. And I put a towel there for you, too. I’ll show you around after I eat, I am fucking starving.”

“Don’t worry about it, Steve. You don’t have to play host.”

Steve snorts. “My mama didn’t raise me not to be a good host.”

Behind him, Bucky snorts. He’s shuffling into the kitchen, wearing a threadbare t-shirt with holes all around the collar and pajama pants slung low on his hips. He yawns and scratches his stomach as he moves. His hair is a mess, like he hadn’t even bothered running his hands through it when he got up, and his feet are bare.

“She tried but your manners are awful, Stevie.”

“Fuck off, Barnes.”

Bucky snorts again and crosses the room to Natasha. She stands up and he hugs her, and they kiss each other’s cheeks. Steve watches them, glad that they’re both here, glad that they’re friends, glad that they’re comfortable with each other, greet each other like family. 

He’s just so happy. It strikes him, sometimes, how happy he is. That’s he’s allowed to have that. That he allows himself to have it and be okay with it.

(It’s taken a lot of work to get there.)

\----

After they’ve all eaten, Steve excuses himself to go shower. 

“Natasha, if there’s anything you want to do while you’re here, just let me know, okay?”

“Sure, Steve,” she responds. She’s lingering over her cup of coffee, with Hooch sprawled at her feet. The other two dogs are next to Bucky. 

After he’s showered and dressed, Steve looks for Natasha and Bucky. He finds them in the living room, on the comfy couch. Natasha is sitting at one end, reading a book. Bucky is laid out over the rest of the couch with his head in her lap. The book he’s been reading is on his chest but closed. 

Steve stands and just looks at them for a minute, committing the sight to memory, before he has to go find his sketchbook and pencils.

As he’s going through the house he hears Bucky tell Natasha, “He’ll spend the rest of the day drawing us now, if we let him.”

“Okay,” Natasha replies.

Steve smiles.

\----

Later that day they all go for a walk. Steve had indeed spent most of the day drawing Bucky and Natasha. Bucky had napped for a while with his head in Natasha’s lap, and then he’d read his book. Natasha read her own book.

It was nice.

Steve gets up at some point and stretches. He’s gone through several speed sketches of the two of them as well as an outline for something more in-depth that he wants to come back to.

When he glances over, Bucky is watching him, and Natasha is smiling at her book, just a little bit.

“Let’s go for a walk,” Steve says.

They take the dogs with them, meandering along at their pace, letting them explore. 

When they get back, Steve starts working on dinner, and Bucky grabs the small project he’s been working on in the evenings, whittling. Natasha sits at the table in the kitchen, just watching them for a while, each at their own thing but together in the space.

“This is nice,” she says, and she sounds a little bit surprised by it.

Steve glances at her over his shoulder and smiles. “We’re pretty okay with it. Right, Buck?”

Bucky nods his agreement, head bent over his work.

“I think I’ll come visit again sometime,” Natasha adds.

“We’d love that,” Steve tells her. 

“Da,” Bucky agrees, slipping into Russian. Whether it’s because he’s concentrating on his work or because Natasha’s here, Steve doesn’t know.

They talk quietly to one another while Steve cooks, mostly in Russian. He listens with half an ear, not really paying them much mind. When he’s gotten everything together he speaks up to ask them to set the table, and they do it agreeably.

\----

The weekend passes quietly, and all too soon Natasha is packing up her bags. She’s kissing them both on the cheeks and assuring them she doesn’t need a ride anywhere.

With a wave and a smile, Natasha disappears down the driveway. Bucky slips his hand into Steve’s, lacing their fingers together. He leans into Steve a little, and Steve leans back.

“That was nice,” Bucky says to him. “You had a good time?”

Steve nods, thinking for a moment before he speaks. “Yeah, I did. It was good to have someone here, I think?”

“Yeah,” Bucky agrees. “We should do it again. You should invite Sam next; he’ll be jealous otherwise.”

Steve smiles a little. “I will then. Maybe next month?”

“Sounds good. Let’s go in, Stevie. I’m getting hungry.”

Steve lets himself be drawn back into the house.

\----

Sometimes, Steve is afraid of this happiness he has, with Bucky and their animals. Sometimes he thinks it cannot possibly last. There cannot be anything he’s done in this life or any other to deserve such happiness as all this.

Bucky always seems to know when he’s feeling these fears, and always does his best to draw Steve out of them, whether with his words or his body.

Sometimes, Steve is afraid that all this is going to come crashing down around his ears.

Sometimes, however, he lets himself have it all, and he pushes the guilt and the fear away, and just enjoys it.

That night, after Natasha has left, Steve lets himself enjoy the bubble of happiness. Both he and Bucky reap the benefits.

**Author's Note:**

> I keep wondering if maybe the ending seems a little ominous and i swear it's not supposed to be. this is the happy 'verse where they live happily ever after in this little cabin with all their dogs and cats and eventually probably an alpaca or three (Steve makes yarn! And takes up knitting again!) and maybe some goats and chickens? and like, they're just happy. I swear. And eventually Bucky starts writing science fiction novels that are a little bit crossed with spy novels and he becomes a NYT bestseller and has to be super reclusive so as not to be found out.


End file.
